The winter ground in Nebraska farm country sits frozen and fallow, but my dad did not. Winter was the time to fix broken machine parts, supervise cornstalks covered in cattle and have a few more cups of coffee. And, sometimes move mountains of snow.
When the big snow storms would come, Dad would have to break away from whatever else he was doing to push the huge bus-sized mounds of snow away from our cars and out-buildings.
Our driveway was all gravel, so regular snow shoveling wasn't going to do the trick. Only the front load tractor would do.We were absolutely paralyzed by big snow storms without Dad and his front loader tractor.
The front loader was ancient, but it still did the job. It had no fancy cab. No radio. However, it had a big bucket on the front end that Dad could scoop snow up into and move it wherever he wanted it.
After moving snow, he would usually go into town for his "therapy".
In Nebraska, farmers have this secret support group. You can tell it when they meet each other on the gravel road. When their pick-ups get close enough so they can see each other, they lift one finger off the steering wheel and point a hello at the other farmer with a concurrent nod.
This is like their secret handshake.
For this support group, they meet up in cafe's around town, and even neighboring towns and talk "farm", "corn", "the Dow Jones market" and what is currently going on at The Sale Barn.
No matter which cafe he entered, Dad seemed to have an uncanny way of knowing the names of all the other men wearing seed corn caps. Jack, Bill, Hurry-Up and Loren were all in the secret support group.
Winter in Nebraska farm country may have been frigid and there may have been mountains of snow.
But, in the cabs of pick ups and the booths of cafe's all over town, the warmth of friendship and common ground abounded.
How about you? Do you have a story of how the warmth of friendship thawed out the winter cold just a little?
Blessings,
Anne
When the big snow storms would come, Dad would have to break away from whatever else he was doing to push the huge bus-sized mounds of snow away from our cars and out-buildings.
Our driveway was all gravel, so regular snow shoveling wasn't going to do the trick. Only the front load tractor would do.We were absolutely paralyzed by big snow storms without Dad and his front loader tractor.
The front loader was ancient, but it still did the job. It had no fancy cab. No radio. However, it had a big bucket on the front end that Dad could scoop snow up into and move it wherever he wanted it.
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| Dad on his Front Loader |
In Nebraska, farmers have this secret support group. You can tell it when they meet each other on the gravel road. When their pick-ups get close enough so they can see each other, they lift one finger off the steering wheel and point a hello at the other farmer with a concurrent nod.
This is like their secret handshake.
For this support group, they meet up in cafe's around town, and even neighboring towns and talk "farm", "corn", "the Dow Jones market" and what is currently going on at The Sale Barn.
I'm not sure which one was his favorite. The Cozy Inn, The Frontier, The Zephyr Cafe and the local Sale Barn were all in my hometown. Did he have different farmer friends in each place? I don't remember.
No matter which cafe he entered, Dad seemed to have an uncanny way of knowing the names of all the other men wearing seed corn caps. Jack, Bill, Hurry-Up and Loren were all in the secret support group.
Winter in Nebraska farm country may have been frigid and there may have been mountains of snow.
 |
| My dog Sammy on a drift of snow |
How about you? Do you have a story of how the warmth of friendship thawed out the winter cold just a little?
Blessings,
Anne
